Morgana noticed it one afternoon. Sid had just finished walking laps around the living room when he winced, sat down, and reached for the bottle on instinct. She grabbed his wrist before he could open it.
"Sid, you already took one this morning."
"It's fine, I just need one more. My knee's killing me."
Her voice rose, sharper now.
"You said that yesterday too! And the day before that! You can't keep doing this— it's dangerous."
Sid looked at her, his expression hardening.
"You don't get it, Morgana. This is the only thing that makes it stop. When I take it, it's quiet. The pain, the noise in my head, all of it— it's gone. For a while, I don't feel like I'm falling anymore."
Her chest tightened at his words.
"But you can't keep living like that. You'll hurt yourself more."
He laughed bitterly, shaking his head.
"I'm already hurt, Morgana. I just don't want to remember it."
